


Of Popsicles and Love Songs

by bigbaldbae



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: And the lame choice of food shared by the two boys, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I apologize for my poor song choices, Love Confessions, M/M, My First Fanfic, Rickyl Writers' Group, There shall be nosebleeds, Titles inspired from 70s songs-present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8670880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbaldbae/pseuds/bigbaldbae
Summary: Daryl Dixon is in denial, and Rick Grimes is as dense as bricks. When Carol starts to get to sick of her friend's obvious pining towards their leader and the said leader's obliviousness, she decides to play matchmaker. And with help in form of a cold, sweet treat. Stuff and thangs ensue.





	1. I'm Not in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daryl is on guard duty and minding his own business, it was also when Carol disturbs the peace for "the talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! I am new to the fandom and writing Rickyl, and I miss them so badly in Season 7 so I had to have an outlet. This little fic of mine takes place in the Prison arc in the series, after Season 3's Home. 
> 
> I fully intended for this to be a one shot, but it got so monstrously long that it may be up to 2 or 3 chapters. Blame my lack of control for this, and missing the Season 3 looks of the boys. I now have this unhealthy obsession with old unshaven dudes who need showers, and I am not ashamed.
> 
> I now present to you my creation along with a glitter bomb. *boom
> 
> *Changes made in this chapter may imply additional editing.

Daryl Dixon paced around the watchtower walkway, his crossbow armed and steady on his side, his senses on full alert for possible threats. Tonight, surprisingly, was peaceful, that despite the apocalypse and the undead taking over, the smell of death all around him, their dystopian world had these rare moments of beauty. The stars scattered above the blue black skies, stars that were previously hidden from angry city lights of the urban world, the only sounds heard are the cacophony of crickets and cicadas along with the moans of more than a few walkers that scattered on the grassy areas, and the night air was cool and crisp, despite the all-too familiar scent of rotten flesh, blood, and gunpowder, something that he, strangely, had gotten used to. The moonlight shone over, the fluorescence reflecting the reality before him. This is their world now, and he's lucky to even be alive. Normally he enjoyed nights like this, guarding, taking his mind off on surviving, how to be alive tomorrow and the next days to come.

Unfortunately, the archer is not on his best mood tonight to give a shit about the beauty of his surroundings as he brooded, a whirl of stress and confusing emotions ready to burst from within. It annoyed him so much since he is not usually like this, remembering how he proudly scoffed to the group on how zen he was. That said, the archer hopes that doing watch serves as a deterrent from possibly doing self-harm, anything that may divert his attention from the thing - or rather, the _one_ causing this to him.

He hurriedly finished supper earlier with the group back in C block and declared watch duty for tonight to save conversation. Not giving much attention towards the surprised stares, he grabbed his crossbow, a pack of Morley's, a knife and his poncho and took off immediately for the prison guard tower, all the while ignoring Carol and Glenn's calls to come back. Pretty sure it wasn't that important.

Not that he didn't like the company of his extended family. Before them all, he thought Merle was the only family he had, but somehow, he had learned to adapt and became one of the group's primary fighters and hunter extraordinaire, in the several months that they have been together, from Atlanta, to the Greene farm, and finally in the prison. He would have Merle to thank for his impressive survival skillset, but right now said shitty excuse of an older brother has done nothing but alienate himself from the group by annoying them, pawing for meth or coke through cell blocks, and if not insulting enough, hitting on Michonne after their last messy encounter with the Governor back in Woodbury. The quiet woman may have an eternal poker face of a katana-wielding serial killer of the undead, however it will not surprise him much if he finds his brother with the left hand chopped off this time. Even his patience is wearing thin.

Although, Merle was the last thing on his mind right now. His thoughts right now are set on what caused his stress: a certain sheriff deputy currently straying from the path of sanity. Rick Grimes, pale with a spaced out look on his face, rejected the roasted rabbit that the archer caught for that day, mentioned something about "stuff and thangs", whatever the hell that meant, going off again to god-knows-where doing god-knows-what, missing supper for the nth time already. No one dared argue or question his statement, for fear of getting the Python forced in their mouths and gray matter exploding on the prison floors. So they just left him alone. Again.

Daryl stopped his pace and decided on a spot where he could peripherally see both the prison grounds and the skirting landscape of the forest trees before them outside the metal fences. He finally settled, set the heavy crossbow next to him, and sat down, his arms resting on the railings and his feet dangling on the side. Picking a stick from his Morley's with his mouth, he stared around the area absently without lighting it. Carol will join him later, occupying the next tower opposite his. Glenn and Maggie decided to do patrols on the grounds and inside the cell blocks as well while the others slept. One guard will actually be enough but with the arrival of lil' Asskicker, Michonne, Merle, and a threat in mortality in form of the Governor, they decided to double the shifts as a precaution.

The thought of the Governor let out an annoyed grunt from the archer, finally lighting his cigarette. He sighed before inhaling and puffing out smoke, looking at that small cloud of white until it vanished from plain sight. Lori passing away after giving birth and gunned down by Carl along with the encounter with the prisoners and the alarm going off, T-Dog killed by walkers and almost losing Carol in the process, Maggie and Glenn being captured at Woodbury, with him being forced to play gladiator versus Merle in a ring of corpses, deciding to leave the group to join his brother only to come back to the prison under attack and in complete disarray by the eyepatched bastard. The problems never stopped coming. 

For the meantime, he and Hershel reluctantly assumed responsibility for the to give Rick his much needed space and time to think on their next move, since the leader refused to leave. Andrea's visit a while ago to persuade a negotiation did not help either, clearly telling them the Governor's intention to go to war. If they are planning to fight back, the last thing they needed was their leader snapping in the midst of it all.

He fiddled with his lighter, his mind not really into guarding anymore. He kept going back to the moment Carl and Maggie stepped outside toward the hot, corpse filled concrete, both with despaired and tear stricken faces, the older Greene daughter holding an infant with bloodied hands and the younger Grimes with a gun in his hand, Rick stammering and sobbing uncontrollably until he fell to the ground. Afterwards he went haywire and gone off in a killing spree for the next couple of days, snuffing off remaining walkers that managed to invade their living space after the breach, leaving them all to take care of the newborn themselves.

Rick then got worse as time went by. The phone calls in the boiler room including a splayed walker with an unusually large belly from what he heard from Hershel. Rick either rambling randomly or embracing empty air outside the fences as per Glenn. And that time when he went off with Merle, he found out from Carol that the leader kicked out a small group of survivors that came in, screaming like a depraved and possessed lunatic the whole time. He instantly regretted his decision, remembering the leader's glassy blue eyes before going off with his older brother in the forest, leaving the group. Leaving the family. _Leaving Rick_. The memory of the deputy's face gave him a sour taste in his mouth and a painful knot in his chest.

Daryl heard steps coming up from below, then saw a moving silhouette coming near from the windows of the guard room, causing the archer to shift to his usual defense position, turning around in fluid motion to crouch down, his crossbow armed, aimed and ready to shoot in a matter of seconds. 

"At ease pookie," Carol said rather playfully, finally coming out of the shadows. "Just came to check on you."

Daryl eased and set down his crossbow on the outside wall of the guard room in front of him as Carol stepped into full view, a hand on her hip with a proud stance, her gray hair shining like silver under the moonlight. With an assault rifle strapped around her slender form and a butterfly knife tucked on her makeshift belt, the beautiful badass woman before him now a far cry from the frail and battered wife he first met back in the quarry. Even so, she shifts back to that maternal mask, never failing to baby Daryl with that cringy nickname especially when he gets injured like he was her rebellious teenage son, her being the fussy and overbearing mother he never had.

"Thought I could leave you with M4A1 here before I go to my post," she began, removing the rifle from her body and placing it beside the crossbow. "I'll just grab another one in the dumpster along the way. Placed spare bullets in the room, 'kay?"

Daryl gave a small nod, relaxing himself and sat back down. "Thanks."

"And by the way, bought some treats for you." Her free hand had a small portable cooler as she sat down next to him, her back leaning against the railings. She held out the cooler on his lap, waiting.

The archer took it gingerly, shaking it a little, sloshing sounds from within. He opened it and peered inside its contents inside surreptitiously. He then stared at the mystery items, not really sure what to think.

"Popsicles?" he finally said.

Carol nodded. "Michonne found it from an abandoned car while she was out. Figured a group went off already even before she came since the car's already out of gas. Probably must have forgotten to bring it."

Daryl continued to stare at the near empty DIY popsicle tray molder with two pieces left, the bright red color and the multicolored sticks a stark contrast from the dull hue of the apocalyptic world, its sweet scent in what Daryl could deduce as strawberry Kool Aid. "How'd you manage to make it last?"

"Axel managed to get the fridge working," Carol replied, a hint of sadness in her voice, leaning the back of her head against cool metal. Daryl picked up on that, deciding to end it there. Ain't something worth mentioning now.

"Already got one of these?" he asked instead, finally looking at her.

"Don't worry, there's enough for everyone. Michonne gave it to thank us I think, for letting her stay, saying it's the least she could do. Little Judith loved it too. Reminds us all that the little things do matter."

Daryl felt a corner of his mouth twitch into a small smile, imagining lil' Asskicker's mouth and clothes in a red mess, face crumpling due to brain freeze complete with gurgling sounds. "That why you hollered at me after dinner?"

"That's right." Carol was smiling again too, probably imagining the same thing he just did. "Had a little popsicle party, and it was fun. Even got Merle to join in."

He gave out a snort. "Really? Merle?"

"Yes, he did. Managed not to antagonize anyone in the room for the first 10 minutes, that is." Carol scoffed, doing that familiar eye roll.

Daryl shrugged, closing the cooler and placing it beside the crossbow. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be. Michonne though, may be close to disemboweling him if he drawled another _That ass_ one more time." 

"Dick." Daryl handed the cigarette to Carol, to which she accepted and inhaled and blew with closed eyes before handing it back to him again. And it went on and on, both alternating white puffs in mutual silence. When the stick was finally finished, Daryl sighed, louder from what he intended, rubbing his temples.

Apparently that caught his friend's attention, a worried look now on her face. "Feelin' stressed pookie? The whole leadership thing?"

"I don't even know how Rick does it." he grumbled. 

"He was a cop. Trained to be assertive. Right now though..."

"Almost goin' off to the deep end."

Carol shook her head. "I don't think so. He’s just...he's grieving. I couldn't even imagine what he's going through right now. There wasn't even a body found. And the fact Carl had to put her down..."

Daryl shrugged, responding to his friend's shudder beside him. "Kid's handlin' it better than he does. I woulda done the same for Merle, case the same thing happens."

"We all have our ways. Now may not be the time, but Rick needs his space. I know he will get past this. The tics he had while you were gone are not as worse as they were, but he still wants to be alone for the most part."

The mention of the breakdown of Rick Grimes had the pained and confused feeling back on Daryl’s chest, stronger than ever, and it was making him uncomfortable. He wanted to change the subject somehow. "How did..." he began. “How were you able to? With Sophia?"

Carol only smiled sadly. “I had to be strong. For all of us. We honor the dead by just being here, alive and surviving. It just…takes a toll to those left behind. That’s why I understand Rick. And I know you understand him too. “

Daryl felt a twinge of sadness, the memory of Sophia coming out of the barn, a shell of the little girl she once was, and Rick shooting a bullet through her head. He made a fist with his free hand and leaned his forehead against it, the other hand reaching for a cigarette, and placed it between his lips. Carol then saw the action and lighted the cancer stick for him. Even after the first two drags, her eyes never left him, like she was trying to read him. Daryl peered at Carol from the corner of his eye, and noticed an odd expression on his friend’s face.

“What?” Daryl asked, feeling conscious.

“You have changed, pookie.” Carol replied softly.

Daryl only managed an expected _pfft_ , but he did not disagree.

Carol placed both of her palms on her jean clad thighs, rubbing them, a sly smile slowly creeping on her features. “That time in the RV, when you gave me that Cherokee Rose and told me that story. I was so touched at the time.”

“Right. You were so touched that you were cryin’ when I was done.”

“I did. That and because I was finally able to hear you say more than 2 phrases in one time.”

Daryl snorted, lightly jabbing Carol on her shoulder. His friend lightly chuckled, her hands now clasped together. “I mean it pookie. You try so hard to deny it, but you are a good person. A little rough on the edges, but good, especially when it comes to taking care of everyone. You deserve so much more than you think.”

The archer shrugged, ignoring the warm feeling that crept on his chest. “Ain’t no need for me to get an award for that. It’s the least I can do. For the group.”

“I know,” Carol nodded. “Rick may not say it to your face, but he appreciates it so much. When you took care of Judith. He could never be more thankful.”

Daryl grunted, knowing Carol was only trying to get him to say that he’s doing it for Rick, or rather – getting him to say what he really feels towards the latter. Daryl is not stupid, and Carol is not stupid as well. If he had stopped to think about the honest answer, however skewed it may be, he may have been even more disturbed. But he will not say it. He will _never_ say it.

Rick Grimes earned his trust, his devotion, way back from when the officer decided to go back to the city for his stupid brother, despite the insults and the hurled dead squirrels. Rick saw beyond him, trusted him, looked at him as an equal, not as a freak, not as redneck trash as others would say. Becoming his right hand, his hate for the sheriff deputy turned into somewhat of an admiration.

As time passed, said admiration turned into confusion, confusion turned into sleepless nights, and sleepless nights turned into…a different thought process that left him fantasizing about Rick with a hard, throbbing need down under. He was having _feelings_ for Rick Grimes. Feelings that he never thought he had to begin with. And it was just _fucking ridiculous_. He never thought about love or relationships of the sort back then. He’s not even gay, for Christ’s sake. That's what _he_ thought at least. Merle would have a conniption if he finds out. That’s why, he buries these unknown feelings deep within, deciding he was probably just lonely and this was his body talking. Love is destruction, and something Daryl will not be getting out of if he decides to give in.

Daryl Dixon likes Rick Grimes, and that’s it. But he is _not in love_.

The two friends sat in mutual silence, the archer letting the soothing smoke of his cigarette curl in his lungs. Then Carol had to talk, no holds barred with no regards to dropping the unfinished conversation, the main question coming in and shattering the tranquility of the evening, and what probably will change Daryl’s perception in love forever.

“Do you care for Rick? Does he make you happy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently cringing and I want to hide so badly. What do you guys think? I am open to suggestions, so please feel free to type away. I don't bite. *wink
> 
> Next chapter will be out in a couple of days, if school decides to not be a bitch. Bye until then! :)


	2. Fooled Around and Fell in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daryl finally contemplates about his conflicted self, with a surprise visit from someone that possibly may or may not help towards his resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my dears! After much proofreading, I found that Chapter 2 is rather long, around 4000+ words, and the reason for that is because Rickyl is finally happening.:)
> 
> I'm not sure if you noticed it already, but this fic is more Daryl-centered than usual, because why not? Everyone loves an awkward Daryl. That's what I think personally anyway hahaha.
> 
> Here's the second part of my official three-shot! *glitter bomb
> 
> *Changes made in this chapter may imply additional editing.

Daryl almost swallowed his cigarette.

In the following struggle, he divided his attention between evacuating the burning stick from his mouth and reeling at the numerous, terrifying implications of Carol’s statement. He glowered at her, hurt and coughing from the smoke swallowed as his eyes watered. Said friend didn’t help, a hand over her mouth as if trying to hold a laugh.

“Ain’t tellin' you _nothin_ '!" Daryl practically screamed at her, the last word coming out more of a shriek as he threw away the now useless cigarette behind him. This caused Carol to break out in delighted peals of laughter, slapping her knee, looking more accomplished than humored.

“Rick talked to me this morning, while poking through walkers at the fence,” Carol said after calming down, wiping the corners of her eyes with a finger. “His direct words were, ‘I know Daryl is stressed out now and hates losing control of his temper, I’m just not very good at helping in that respect. Tell me something that can help him keep his cool. I’m curious about his smile.’”

Daryl’s alarm was going through the proverbial roof to the point that even Carol could feel his anxiety. This likely had less to do with the steely smirk that the woman was giving to him, and more to do with the sweat on his forehead and the unfocused look in his eyes. He was either slipping into a serious internal freak out, or was suffering from a spontaneous cerebral hemorrhage. Perhaps both.

Carol sighed, making a fake dreamy face. “And here I thought I could have a chance with you.”

“ _Stop_. You sure he was sane when he asked you that?” was the only thing Daryl could squeak out.

Carol gave him a rather offended look. “Of course he was sane. Like I said, the tics are not as worse as they were. He looked dead serious, in fact.”

“What the hell did you say to him then?”

Carol paused, then gave Daryl that steely smirk again. “I’m not gonna tell,” she replied. “Both of you should get your heads out of your asses and fix this mess once and for all.”

Daryl glared. “There ain’t nothin’ to fix. Rick’s already had too much goin’ on, and dating ain’t necessary for us to stay alive in this fucked up world.”

“What do you call Maggie and Glenn taking that chance, then? Even Shane and Lori gave in,” Carol said, a trace of acid in her voice upon mentioning the last two names like it was taboo.

Based from the sudden serious turn of the conversation, Daryl admitted Carol had a point. He was now way beyond denying the facts to his friend that was currently on to him. Carol always knows. What confused him is why him, a stupid redneck named Daryl Dixon, of all people, would the straight laced Rick Grimes give his attention to? The man was too good for him, not even worth a smidgen of his attention.

“It’s…it’s different with them,” Daryl said lamely. “‘Sides, Rick is married to Lori. Isn’t that the reason why he has those tics in the first place?”

“ _Was_ married,” Carol corrected him. “If you could just see beyond those wedding bands, there was no more love between those two anymore, since Lori got pregnant. Rick is having those tics because there was no closure between them. It has always been _you_ , pookie. Did you not even notice that?”

Daryl did notice. The way Rick looks at him and turns away with a sigh. The way he immediately replaced his best friend of many years to a nobody like him. The way he has that panicked look on his face whenever he came back and was out too long from a hunt. The way he touched and squeezed his shoulder in one of their serious, hushed talks and he just lets him, despite the skittish feeling he usually gets when it comes to physical contact. The way he was too overprotective of him when he pulls him off from walkers that came too near. The way he looks for him whenever they are separated like he couldn’t bear being away from him for too long. The way he _trusted_ him. Daryl noticed that, of course, but felt it was too inconclusive and the thoughts of _he’s just being friendly_ already like a mantra in his brain. And then Carol suddenly presents this query from Rick in his face. It was definitely interesting, yet confusing all the same time. Daryl felt his head spinning.

“Don’t you think Rick deserves to know?” Carol asks him. “All of us, we may as well be dead tomorrow. Surely you’re not waiting for that to happen?”

A vision of Rick's eyes turning white, and becoming the worst thing Daryl could imagine had that knot in his chest grew tighter. Surely, he did not even think through things in this aspect. He was so sure that he was not in love. Now he is left unsure again, and this kind of uncertainty drives him up the wall. This new revelation was too much for him to take all in one night.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’, Carol,” he declared, looking away from his friend. “It’s better this way, us bein’ friends. I ain’t worth ten of him. Rick is too good of a man to have some redneck asshole bein’ too involved in his life.”

“Really, pookie? You really think that?” Carol asked with a disappointed tone.

Daryl was not sure of what to think anymore, as he was internally screaming. He didn’t reply and just looked away further from his friend, biting a thumbnail hard enough to draw blood from his skin. The archer was like that for a few moments, until Carol took his hand away from his mouth, in a rather gentle manner, causing him to turn around to look at her. He was half-expecting wrath and a smack in his head, but her sympathetic expression as she looked at him intently told him otherwise.

“You should _really_ see the way he looks at you,” Carol finally said, in her best mom-like voice. “He looks at you like you’re the ocean, and he’s desperate to drown.”

Daryl’s eyes widened, and felt his face heat up. Before he could completely absorb and regard Carol’s statement in its purest essence, she leaned in and kissed his forehead, again in a mom-like manner, then abruptly stood up and turned towards the watchtower room to leave.

“Hey Carol, wait—“

“That should be enough of a push for you, pookie. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night!” she chirped, disappearing before Daryl could open his mouth.

Daryl was alone again, and he could only stare to the direction where the woman left, shell-shocked and even more confused than ever. Through that touching statement it replaced the knotted feeling in his chest to a warmer, relieved feeling this time, with the thought of Rick also having feelings for him gave him this ache – the good kind of ache that had him feeling that butterflies-in-the-stomach idiocy that was such a huge fad. A part of him wanted to just take off, run towards the sheriff deputy, and take him into his arms and never let go. Another part of him wanted to grab an arrow from his quiver and stab himself in the eye with it.

The archer squeezed his eyes shut, the back of his head uniting with the railing behind him repeatedly. Not yet, he tells himself, as he needs a hell of a time to think. If Rick does have feelings for him, it has to be the same feelings that he will have to reciprocate, something close to love and having a real relationship, not something to just satisfy the feeling of physical attraction and carnal lust he has towards the other man. Rick is still a family man, first and foremost, and Daryl’s years of abuse in his own family did not even come close to that extent, to where his perception towards love is skewed. Yes, he definitely needs more time to think.

Daryl was lost and drowned in his own thoughts that he did not even notice Rick was standing in front of him right now, a confused look etched on his handsome face. Daryl blinked rapidly, thinking this was only an illusion. Both of them were silent, equally regarding each other with dumbfounded expressions.

“Carol told me you were here so…” the deputy finally blurted out.

Not even wondering why Rick left his sentence hanging, at this point Daryl was berating himself for two reasons – he taught Rick how to track once, and he is fully aware that Rick completely sucked at it, so not hearing him come up the stairs tells him that he needs to review Hunting 101 again – and secondly, that he had to open his big mouth to Carol, all knowing that of course she will tell Rick where he was to “fix this mess” as she aptly called it. Daryl thought quickly that this is the kind of juicy news his friend will definitely relay to Maggie and Beth, even to Michonne, if she will be blatantly interested. Daryl promptly blames the end of the world for the lack of entertainment.

Bless that woman’s vindictive soul. When this was all over and the gift would be suitably antagonistic, he swore he would send Carol a fruit basket. 

Daryl took a deep breath then let out one of his usual impassive grunts. Rick, on the other hand, took to pacing on the walkway, hands on his hips, with his head down, stopping once in a while to open his mouth then closing it shut like a fish out of water, then proceeds to walking again. Daryl feels the mutual awkwardness in the state their leader is in.

“Rick Grimes. Got somethin' you want to tell me?”

Rick stops in his tracks, his back turned to Daryl, and the archer thought that he may have been too forward with his question. Slowly, he could see a small smile creeping through the older man’s features.

“Huh. I think I remember you a lot angrier the last time you said that, dead squirrels and all,” Rick finally said, turning around to face him.

That weird fluttering in Daryl’s chest did  _not_  just return, _goddamnit_. He had just recovered from his odd bout of school girl-itis, and would not go all gushy over something as dumb as remembering the time they first met. He wanted to blowtorch those goddamned butterflies as he felt sick all of a sudden. But he had to keep his cool, in order to not throw Rick off by acting like a fangirl with a stupid crush.

But that feeling simply did not go away as Rick went towards him and sat down, close enough so that both their shoulder blades were touching, his back also against the railing and his elbows resting above his bowlegged knees, the overgrown curls brushing over his forehead as he looked down and laughed to himself. Here was Rick, being so fucking adorable, and here was Daryl, completely flustered and weak to his knees. Very un-Dixon like, in all aspects.

“You’ve been on watch for three straight nights already. Thought I could join you,” Rick told Daryl, waking him up from his internal reverie. “You could really use some shut eye, man.”

Small talk. Daryl will be able to live with that. He grunted and shrugged. “Couldn’t really sleep anyway.”

“All right,” Rick said with a nod.

Silence.

“You have a plan already?” Daryl queries.

“Not yet,” Rick answers, doing that telltale squeeze of his nose bridge with his fingers whenever he gets frustrated. “I’m planning to take Carl and Michonne with me back to King’s County. We’re currently lacking in ammunition. Maybe in the next few days we’ll leave.”

“Okay,” Daryl nods. “Me and Hershel will take care of lil’ Asskicker then.”

More silence. Daryl shifted a bit, as the silence now irritated him a little. Previously he could live with Rick not talking to him for hours on end, especially when on guard duty, only relaying messages through whistles and eyes. Tonight is different, and Daryl is not sure if he could look at Rick’s eyes the same way again.

“I’m sorry brother,” Rick began apologetically.

“For what?”

“Going out for a while. With Lori…” Rick stops, shaking his head and looked down. “Judith is my daughter. I should’ve been more responsible.”

Daryl rolled his eyes, narrowing them towards Rick. “Ain’t no need to be sorry, man. You needed space.”

“Still. By now I shouldn’t be having trouble making her sleep.”

Daryl snorted, making that _pffft_ sound again. “That’s easy. Sing that Cash song to her. Knocks her out completely.”

Rick looked up and gave him an incredulous look, an eyebrow raised. “Johnny Cash? I don’t remember ever hearing a soothing Johnny Cash song. How does it go?”

The archer scratched the back of his head. “Jesus, forgot the title. But it goes somethin’ like… _what have I become, my sweetest friend_ …”

Rick raised both his brows, a surge of familiarity showing on his face. “ _Everyone I know, goes away in the end_ …”

And soon both of them are singing, failing to imitate Johnny Cash’s low baritone and instead sounding like pigheaded Southern drunkards. By the time both of them were at the _my empire of dirt_ part, Daryl mimicked playing a guitar and made those Stevie Wonder moves, all the while rolling his eyes backward. Rick was beside himself, laughing until his stomach hurt, and Daryl chuckled next to him when the singing was over.

“Man, I don’t think a song about death would compensate for a lullaby,” Rick said after calming down, still smiling.

Daryl only shrugged. “So what? Lil’ Asskicker likes it. Woulda preferred singin’ Wild Horses by the Stones, but that’s too high for me. So I let Beth sing that to her.”

Rick laughed again. “Why the _hell_ are they all sad songs?”

Daryl didn’t answer and smiled to himself, relishing the sound of Rick’s laughter. This…this was okay. This was all he wanted, for their leader to go back to what he was before, and Daryl would do everything just to take Rick away from whatever dark place he’s been.

“Never met no Southerner who didn’t like Cash. I remember Merle drinking himself to sleep when the news broke, Cash dyin’ a few months after that song came out.”

“Well,” Rick smiled sadly, looking down again. “Trust June Carter hammering that final nail to his coffin.”

 _Shit shit shit._ Daryl mentally kicked himself in the head, not liking the way the conversation suddenly shifted to something awful. He was berating himself again, until he felt Rick shiver beside him, the cold night air biting their skin as it blew for a short while. In contrast to his long sleeved shirt, covered by a leather and denim jacket and angel wing vest, Rick only wore a thin, button down shirt with sleeves only up to his elbows.

Without a word, Daryl quickly removed his poncho and placed it on Rick, adjusting it properly to make sure the other man was completely covered and warm. But like a bolt of lightning that struck, he immediately realized what he was doing and it made him freeze in his place, his hands still on the poncho. Rick looked up at him, a shade of pink tinged on his cheeks, and Daryl could feel the heat on his face reaching his ears. Rick’s lovely blue eyes were on to his narrow ones, the cowlicks straying on his ears, and Daryl wanted nothing more but to touch and brush them away from his face and then –

“Um.”

Rick broke the silence and the brewing tension with that word alone, and Daryl cleared his throat as he sat back down. What was the big deal anyway, Daryl already did this a million times back in winter, before the prison days, and so it shouldn’t be anything new. If Carol saw this scene, her only reaction would be a derisive snort. Somehow, Daryl seems to have heard the said snort and suddenly had a shaking feeling of being watched, making him realize why he couldn’t find the group’s only pair of binoculars earlier.

Daryl sighed, hoping this was only his imagination, feeling frustrated with these sudden turn of events, the earlier revelation indeed bringing a new level of awkward between the two of them.

“You need that more than I do,” Daryl finally said, trying to keep his voice as noncommittal as possible and avoiding Rick’s gaze. “You’re becomin’ way too scrawny lately.”

“All right, thanks…I guess,” Rick nods, a little shakily than normal. He leaned against the railing, covering his face with his hands. “Man, I would kill for a Bud right now…”

Daryl took notice of the almost forgotten cooler in front of him, reaching for it and dangling it in front of Rick. “Sorry I don’t have none of that, but Carol brought us these.”

The deputy took the cooler not for long from the archer’s waiting hand, shaking it beside his ear, and opened it carefully, peering inside.

“Popsicles?” says Rick, in the same incredulous tone that Daryl used at Carol a while ago.

“Michonne found it on a run today.”

Rick looked at Daryl, then back to the cooler. “That explains those sticks I found in the trash. This would do just fine, I guess,” he mumbled, picking up the tray and pulling one of two popsicles out, then handing the tray back to Daryl. “Go on, get yours.”

He followed the leader with a small nod, picking up the very last popsicle. With one hand Rick then returned the tray back to the cooler and placed it beside Daryl’s crossbow, the other hand holding the popsicle was in front of the archer. “Let’s have a toast. To the apocalypse.”

Daryl snorted, stifling a sarcastic chuckle and raised his own treat. “Apocalypse,” he simply said. The two brought their treats together with a light, clinking sound.

The two men ate their popsicles in silence. While Daryl was almost finished by biting half of the frozen treat off, Rick was quite slow, licking and sucking at the length of popsicle, staining his pale lips red, all the while humming a satisfied _mmmmm_. That image alone swirled and burned through the archer’s retinas right to his sympathetic nervous system, causing an aching tightness in his jeans. Daryl turned away abruptly and went on to finish his own popsicle, swallowing the second half without chewing, and debated to himself afterwards on which one hurt the most – a brain freeze or a hard on.

“Been a while since I had these,” he could hear Rick saying in a rather happy tone, and Daryl wished he could just shut up and finish the damn thing already.

This is classic Rick Grimes when he is not on aggressive kill mode: stupid and oblivious, and Daryl couldn’t help but think that Rick is doing this on purpose. There had been countless times where the sheriff deputy let his guard down when he is with the archer, his moves not as subtle as Daryl’s. Like that one time he caught Rick watching him sleep, only to mumble a lame excuse related to proximity once he wakes up. That other time when Rick was practically breathing into his ear behind him in one of their rifle proficiency lessons back in the farm. And that other time on a random night duty when Rick gave up on fighting sleep as his head fell on Daryl’s shoulder, snoring softly. Normally Daryl would shove these kinds of people away, but this was _Rick_ they were talking about – Rick letting out a small sneeze, wrinkling his nose and continued to sleep, almost snuggling into him, and Daryl could only stare at the beautiful curve of the other man’s neck, down to the space on his throat where the two collarbones meet, cursing Rick for having three or four buttons undone on that goddamned shirt, and Daryl could only pray and pray to whichever deity that would listen – to stop playing that _Fooled Around and Fell in Love_ song automatically in his head when all of these things were happening.

Therefore it is concluded -- he  _is in love_ with Rick Grimes. Daryl gave himself a mental facepalm for being in denial for too long.

Feeling defeated, he looked at the popsicle stick he was holding and noticed words carved at one side. Good timing, though, as his said _I LOVE U_ , the word 'love' conveniently replaced with a heart. Daryl wanted to hurl right then and there, shoving the atrocious piece of wood inside his pocket. Beside him, Rick was finally finished and looked at the end of his own stick as well, then shoved it in his own pocket, an unreadable expression on his face.

Then for some reason, a wave of nostalgia overcame Daryl, an old childhood memory playing like a movie in his head. This may serve as an unwelcome distraction towards the uneasiness that he felt.

“I remember when I was about five or six,” Daryl began. “When the old man was too drunk and beats me up so badly beyond recognition, Merle had to bring me to a doctor to get treated. We’re too dirt poor, so a hospital’s immediately out of the question.”

Rick looked at him intently, his lips pressed together in a hard line. “That bad, huh.”

Daryl shrugged, then continued, twiddling his fingers. “Finally discovered this small clinic near my school, owned by this eighty somethin’ doctor. Kinda reminds me of Hershel, now that I think ‘bout it, ‘cept he was alone and didn’t have a family of his own. So he treats me, amazed at how still and quiet I was unlike the other runts he encounters. Gives me a popsicle afterwards, sayin’ that Georgia is too hot and I have to avoid gettin’ heatstroked, and that was that. But he still goes on and on, whenever I go home after school and I pass by him he always gives me them popsicles, even though I ain’t hurt or anythin’. Merle got me thinkin’ that he’s too creepy and I should not go there again, but I didn’t mind him, since that old man’s really nice. After a couple months I no longer saw him, then I found out from Merle that he died.”

“What happened to him?” Rick asked.

Daryl looked down on his hands. “Nothin’ happened to him. He was just old. Died due to natural causes. I couldn’t stop crying for days. Lucky for him though, he wouldn’t have to witness this shit,” he pauses, then continues. “That old man got me thinkin’ that even though there’s too many bad people in the world, there’s still good people left. Kinda regained my faith in humanity at that point. Then I grew up, then Merle happened…guess I kinda forgot ‘bout it for a while.”

The archer looked up after a while, physically feeling the leader’s eyes on him, regarding him with that unreadable expression again. “Sorry, didn’t really mean to talk off—“

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rick cut him off. “So I take it that popsicles are supposed to make me feel better?”

Daryl glared heatedly. “Think you’re kinda missin’ the point—“

“I _do_ get your point, man. Really. I do,” Rick interrupted him again, a warm smile on his face. “It’s just that for someone who don’t usually have a way with words, you Daryl Dixon, are becoming quite a poet," he pauses, a twinkle in his eyes. "And, you are quite adorable when you blush. ”

“Fuck you, Rick Grimes,” Daryl shot out, fully aware that his face is as red as strawberry Kool Aid. “That’ll be the last time I tell you shit.”

“I was just kiddin’, man. I do thank you for your kind words,” Then Rick squeezed Daryl’s shoulder, the latter’s irritation subsequently subsiding. “Can…can you promise me something, though?”

Daryl grunted, but immediately noticed the dead serious look on Rick’s face. Which is _not_ a good sign.

“Promise me, if anything happens to me, you let Carl put me down. Or if you are right there, please be the one to do it. I know they will be strong, a lot stronger than I ever will be. You, Glenn, Carol and the others, I trust you all to take care of the kids. I know it’s too much, but can you promise me that?”

A long silence followed. Rick continued to look intently into Daryl’s eyes, but to the leader’s surprise, the archer’s usual expressionless face suddenly contorted into a mask of rage. Daryl inhaled sharply through his nose, wondering what the fucking hell Rick had just said as he pried his arm violently off where Rick touched him, and Rick shifted away slightly from Daryl, icy blue eyes wide with a terrified expression.

“Ain’t promisin’ you nothin’ you lying piece of shit,” Daryl bristled in a loud voice, his fists shaking, trying his damn best to not punch the man next to him. How dare he asks something like this, an indirect request of a mercy shot, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Daryl, you need to calm down—“

“What do you want me to do, huh? So you’re givin’ up then? Want me to push you off the tower and be done with it?” Daryl was now running both of his hands through his hair, a clear show of frustration and anger. “Everyone was right—you _are_ going nuts. How would Lori think about this, huh?!”

He could see Rick swallow a lump on his throat, hurt, as his eyebrows bunched together, but that didn’t do anything to calm Daryl down. It even made him angrier, in fact.

“This isn’t about Lori anymore—“

“Then _fucking_ make me understand why you’re sayin’ that!” Daryl yelled. “You can’t just go on and give up, not like that. Forget Lori, what about Carl and Judy? The only reason why we’re all still alive is because of _you._ And don’t fucking make Carl do that again."

Daryl paused, looking away from Rick, though the rage in his voice didn't alter much. "Don’t make anyone in the group do you that favor. The group needs you. Carl and Judy needs you. _I_ need you.”

Rick deadpans, the color on his face disappearing. Daryl, on the other hand, is still a vexed and trembling mess beside him, and he was too emotional at that point to regret the last thing he said. The archer could feel hot, angry tears coming up, so he turned away further from Rick and wiped his eyes roughly with his arm, feeling his stomach turn. The last thing he wanted was Rick seeing him like this, his emotions out of control and his armor shattered.

“Daryl, I didn’t know that you felt that way,” Rick began. “I’m sorry—“

“Well you’d better be,” Daryl croaked, his voice breaking. “I’m going. Have fun doing watch, you dumb fuck.”

Daryl begins to leave, reaching for his crossbow, but Rick’s hand held his arm in midair. The leader’s terrified expression was now gone, replacing it with a mellow, compassionate tone that somehow held Daryl in his place.

“I’m really sorry Daryl. Forget what I said. I _am_ a dumb fuck. Just...please don’t leave right now. _Please_?”

They looked at each other for what seemed like forever until Daryl inhaled sharply again, finally giving up, moving his arm slightly so Rick could let go of him as he sat back down, his anger dissipating as quick as it came in. When Daryl was just about to dispel the uncomfortable, acrimonious atmosphere with some cutting remark when he caught sight of Rick’s face.

The deputy was regarding the archer with the same odd expression on his face again, somehow soft and calculating at the same time. Daryl drew a sharp intake of breath, and he didn’t know whether to be wary of such an expression of Rick’s usually straight-forward features, or to be oddly attracted to how incredibly hot the look made him. He suddenly forgot why he was angry a while ago. 

“I’m going to try something, okay?” Rick asked before Daryl could question what the expression was about. Further, Rick was moving dangerously close before Daryl could answer the query. Daryl was alarmed to find Rick’s face near his, bringing them almost nose to nose.

A breath passed, and then Rick was kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think of the cliffhanger? I am pretty sure you all know what will happen next. :)
> 
> BTW that ocean thingy from Carol came from a Rickyl oriented Tumblr post, and I thought it sounded beautiful I just had to include it. And that Johnny Cash song is titled "Hurt," originally by Nine Inch Nails. That Logan trailer brought me to tears bruh.
> 
> Guys, please feel free to comment! It ain't over 'til it's over.
> 
> Til the next chapter guys! :)


	3. Friday, I'm in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daryl is finally kissed by Rick, and from that point he decides where to go from there.
> 
> Bonus epilogue also included. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter loves! This concludes my three shot, finally. ~
> 
> I happened to have included a crack-induced epilogue along with this. I do hope you like it though. :)
> 
> *Changes made in this chapter may imply additional editing.

Daryl Dixon is now being kissed by Rick Grimes.

This was Daryl’s first kiss.

There wasn’t anything exciting about it, nor anything lewd.  
  
It was something straight out of the halls of a middle school.  
  
It was so awkward, all hesitance and closed lips. 

Really, what was supposed to be so exciting about kissing like this?

If he was able to catalog the details of it while it was taking place, it clearly wasn’t… Daryl melted. 

Overthinking only got so far when the simple sensation of lips moving softly against his own sent chills down to his toes. It was so very much like a first kiss, but at the same time he felt that this was something different. Something that toyed with the edges of his perceptions about love. Something that made him rise slowly so that they were facing each other, close his eyes and bring his calloused hands up to cup Rick’s head as he pushed forward to explore this strange experience further. Rick made a pleased noise and slanted his lips to press at the corner of Daryl’s mouth before pulling away, their faces were still close together with foreheads touching. Daryl then caught a brief glance of Rick’s dilated pupils, immobilizing him in overt pleasure. Hell, he could even here the goddamned music in his head beginning to play again.

“I’ll make it all better, Daryl,” says Rick in a certain voice.

Yes, _that_ certain voice. Rick’s fucking _voice_ — almost to a low feral growl, taking on a rather deep, rich quality, switched off something inside Daryl’s brain.

Making a guttural growl of his own, Daryl slanted his lips forward to Rick’s, more like a crash than a kiss. Round two came with significantly less propriety as Rick began to remove Daryl’s vest and jacket, and then his arms were now going around Daryl’s back, pulling the latter closer to him. Predictably enough, Daryl flinched from the touch, a programmed reflex caused by the ugly welts and scars tracing the whole of his back. He did not expect Rick to pick up on that, though, as the leader removed his arms from the archer’s back, one coming up to touch his neck and the other dropping low enough to the small of his lower back, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, like he was saying, _I’m not letting anyone hurt you anymore_.

Such a simple gesture turned Daryl on, as Rick’s touches felt like fire that suffused his blood. He was so turned on that he didn’t realize he was opening his mouth to give Rick easy access, the deputy’s tongue then lapping and sucking on the flesh inside, still tasting the strawberry Kool Aid flavor, and Daryl thanked the gods now that Rick actually took his time on the frozen treat. That skillful tongue gently massaged the roof of his mouth, eliciting a soft moan from the archer. Driven by sheer instinct, Daryl’s kisses then trailed across the stubble on Rick’s cheek and down his neck to suck lightly at the juncture of neck and shoulder. All it took was the gentle touch of a tongue where Daryl had been sucking against Rick’s neck to force a breathy whimper out of the older man and cause him to break into harsh panting. Daryl continued to suck Rick’s neck and kept pulling on the rather bothersome poncho, while Rick’s hands sneakily went down and inserted itself in Daryl’s back pocket, pushing their clothed erections together, causing both of them to sing out strangled, pleasured moans.

Before Daryl lost complete control of himself, he buried his head on Rick’s shoulder. Rick didn’t argue on the sudden loss of contact, embracing Daryl instead as he looped an arm around his waist, Rick’s other hand ruffling his hair, all the while whispering sweet nothings that Daryl was unable to comprehend at the moment. Rick’s touch, kisses, and all those beautiful noises he made indicated that he wanted this to happen as much as Daryl did, but he could feel the small piece of silver looped on the deputy’s ring finger while he touched him, as if the ghost of his dead wife was still bound like a heavy chain to Rick and shackled away from Daryl, and this made the him choke up again.  Whether this was finally an exchange of their unrequited feelings for one another or just a mere satisfaction of their physiological needs, Daryl still needed to know, and Rick deserves to know as well. And from there, he decided.

_Ah, screw it._

Still hiding his face, he blindly handed Rick his popsicle stick from his pocket with a shaking hand, ready for whatever that may transpire afterwards. Daryl felt a slight wetness on Rick's shirt that was not completely covered by the poncho from where he laid his eyes. He did not even know why the hell he was crying, and at this time to begin with. But this is the two scenes he imagined could happen - Rick taking the stick, looking at it and then his light blue irises blurring and swimming in a millisecond, with a breathy whisper of _what took you so long?_ The second scene came in just as quick, visualizing Rick with a dislocated jaw, walking out afterwards and leaving the older man alone with an aghast expression on the tower.

The fact that Daryl was still hiding his face and wanting to just disappear right then and there – it didn’t even register that the imagined first scene _was_ actually fucking happening at that very moment, and it all took Rick’s touch on his cheek by to snap him back to reality. Daryl’s eyes suddenly flew open in shock and felt his mouth going dry. Panicked, he tried to stand up again with all intentions to bolt or jump off from the tower, however Rick quickly sensed his agitation and held him down, freezing Daryl in his place, his icy blues darkening and brewing to a storm. In his stern leader face, Rick then used those eyes to send a message Daryl did not expect, making his head spin.

_Game over, Daryl Dixon._

It was now or never as the archer is currently under scrutiny by the sheriff deputy. Daryl gritted his teeth and looked away, wishing he was somewhere else. But Rick, still unfazed, cupped Daryl's face with his hands and moved it very gently, like he was some fragile ornament, so that their foreheads were touching one another again. At that moment every barrier he built crumbled before him, and Daryl felt so ugly and exposed and embarrassed while he prevented the other man's gaze as his eyes were down on the floor, eyes still wet with tears, slightly sniffling, and feeling like a lost child. Blood was roaring on his ears, and he knew the leader could hear the archer’s increasing heart rate while trying to clamber out of his rib cage.

Suddenly Rick then handed Daryl his own popsicle stick, placing it flat on the latter's leather clad chest from where his heart is. He could swear that Rick's hand was shaking as well, something rarely seen from such a personality of a leader that he swore to follow until his last breath. Feeling a little braver, he took the stick from Rick's hand and read the carved writing.

_I'M YOURS_

Daryl smiled, a genuine smile for the very first time, deep inside a wave of utter happiness and relief washed over him as he finally glanced at Rick who also smiled back, that wide smile he missed and loved so much even after everything else that had happened. The confession was rather lame to a fault, but either men did not care less – they will get to that point where they will not need stupid popsicle sticks to say what they really feel. Daryl then felt the Rick’s soft lips on his forehead for a loving peck with another breathy whisper of _Iloveyousomuch_ , a hand going through his hair again and the other caressing the erratic pulse on his neck with his fingers, and Daryl wondered he was just dreaming, if the planets in the universe just fucking aligned, or what good he had done to deserve this.

_You and Sheriff Rick are like “this” now._

He remembered Merle making that ridiculous gesture with his fingers when they argued about going back home, and now Daryl thought right away that his brother saw right through him – that “home” meant Rick Grimes and not the prison. Heck, probably _everyone_ but the two of them already knew that this was a long time coming. Knowing that Rick will still be alive when he comes back will be good enough for him, and he will have the simple satisfaction of being by the leader’s side and protecting his extended family. Though, if this was half an hour ago and if Rick did not come up to the tower tonight, with or without Carol’s help – Daryl would’ve moved on, and Rick probably would’ve moved on too, carried on with the baneful notion of surviving, keeping these feelings to themselves and taking them to their graves – if they’re lucky enough to not be walker food. Right now however, Daryl shudders at the thought of Rick not ever knowing the truth.

_I’ll make it all better._

Words of a promise. With those simple words alone, Rick was able to get through and reach out to the lonely boy craving for love inside Daryl, breaking down the walls he had worked so hard his whole wretched life to build. Rick’s smoldering eyes, and the desperate claim of ownership as he stated physically to Daryl what words could not yet fully convey, shows how much Rick himself wanted him, and that this was more than just a hot-as-fuck one-time-only make out session – but it all seemed _too_ fast, _too_ good to be true, that Daryl still couldn’t wrap his head around it. And yet, somehow he knew that he will not regret this. That he _will_ get used to this. That this was _more_ than okay. That this was like puzzle pieces coming together, and like this was destined to happen, and that soon everything will make sense again. Their heartbeats now synchronized in fast paced beats and their arms are around each other, never letting go, both of them surrounded in a haze of longing, pleasure, and solid sultry heat. Romantic, in fact, as Daryl held Rick’s face, tracing those lovely features as if he was memorizing him, falling in love with him all over again, and he never thought he could have someone beautiful as moonlight in his hands.

"Now better than that doctor’s treat, I suppose?" Rick finally said, the warm smile almost near to mischief, light blue eyes glazing over sharp, narrowed turquoise ones.

Daryl smirked. "Fuck yeah, hoss."

The switch inside him, again, turned off. Daryl pinned the older man down and devoured his lips again, taking his sweet time to fancy his feel and taste, loving the way the leader writhed and fall apart beneath him. Rick was happily obliging, chuckling between kisses and pulling the archer closer, a leg locked on the other man's waist, canting his hips forward towards Daryl's. Neither of them gave a flying fuck of being coy anymore as their hands were everywhere on each others bodies, denim against denim rubbed together in heated sin, kisses mixed with teeth, tongue and dominance, the air thick with their moans, sighs and hissed curses, the poncho forgotten and thrown to the far side of the walkway, and from there the caged animals within them prowled free.

 

* * *

 

Inside a cell back in C block, Merle Dixon stirred, mouth agape, and sat up abruptly with eyes still closed, and thought he was lost somewhere in the realm between reality and dream. There were sounds that he hears, unrealistic rather - and it didn't really sound far, as the growls and grunts were loud and the screams took on a real animalistic tone. Even thought that he heard his beloved baby brother's name between the noises. But he clamped his jaw shut and decided to ignore it, sleep eventually winning out. "Them goddamned ‘coons at it again," he mumbled out, before plopping back down again on his bed with a loud snore.

And yes. A certain gray haired woman smirking from the opposite tower was now getting the best view of her life, sucking on a popsicle, the grip on her binoculars getting tighter. Those farm girls will wet themselves silly tomorrow once they hear this.

 

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

  * Even though the gesture is completely devoid of the originally intended antagonism, Carol found a fruit basket waiting for her back in her cell the following day, along with a note scrawled with vomit-worthy curly handwriting and hearts that said, “With love, R&D.”


  * Despite hooking up almost nightly in the early stages of their relationship, Rick and Daryl are quite discreet when it comes to the actual act of sex, with respect to their family by doing the deed in the D block cells most of the time, if not anywhere else (ahem, tower). They are only ever caught by two acquaintances while “in the throes.” Those persons are Michonne and Maggie. Both women were looking for them for help to remove the goddamned skunk that conveniently entered the prison showers, but after finding the couple in a rather “precarious” position, the two women did not say a word and just walked away, a trickle of blood both coming out of their noses. Maggie was okay with it and moved on, however the usually deadpan Michonne was traumatized by the sight. Poor Hershel already lost count on how many times he pried off the huge bottle of household bleach from the woman’s hands, in an attempt to blind herself permanently.


  * To their mutual surprise, Daryl is by far the kinkier of the two. Whenever they hook up – Rick, being the domesticated cat that he was, happily defaults to make outs, to missionary, then to cuddles – unless Daryl, who became a sex god overnight after being deflowered by Rick, has something else in mind. The sheriff deputy really _wants to_ mock him for it, but finds it far too endearing to do so.


  * Carl, of course, wise beyond his years, also gave his blessing simply by hugging Rick and Daryl, even calling them both his dads. Rick felt so blessed and thought he could never have a more understanding son. Except for that one instance when the teenager asked in innocent curiosity on who usually tops, causing him and Daryl to have their very first argument as a couple (though an answer of versatility, blow job bribery, or rock-paper-scissors would suffice). When too many details regarding male anatomy and sex positions were discussed, Carl decided that he heard too much and just dropped the question, sighing heavily and shaking his head while walking away from the two.


  * Initially, everyone in the group had this unspoken agreement to keep the relationship from Merle in the meantime. The older Dixon brother found out eventually though, thanks to an inadvertent slip from Beth’s tongue, and being the protective brother he was – causing him to storm towards Rick practically screaming in murderous rage until his voice rasped out, with a chock-full of creative threats to gut the other man off with his makeshift arm-knife. Rick, of course, is not one to back out from a challenge, doing that infamous head tilt and facing him with the Python despite Daryl’s pleas. With everyone’s help the two men were held several feet away from each other, but when too much homicidal testosterone was triggered, along with yelling and threats, and there were one too many guns and knives involved, Carol came to the rescue, pulling Merle and a slightly catatonic Michonne along with her for a pep talk. An hour passed and they finally came back to the group, a familiar glint in Michonne’s eyes and a visibly shaken Merle, begrudgingly giving the two men his blessing. To this day no one knows what exactly the consensus was, but everyone believed that it involved chopping off Merle Dixon’s _other arm.  
_


  * With the help of an impressive group of spies, the Governor and Andrea also found out about Rick and Daryl. Andrea was very happy for her two friends, however the Governor, though initially touched by the discovery, went back to his usual antagonistic snark and dubbed them as the “Romeo and Juliet of the Apocalypse.” To Andrea’s annoyance, the Governor began thinking of…rather lame plans that probably came from lame soap operas to break the two up, and Andrea couldn’t help but wonder on which one from the both of them is more smitten. She let him discuss it anyway and pretended to listen and be interested, all the while daydreaming about the two men (in sexual nature, much to her surprise), and this went on for hours. By the time the middle of Plan G was elaborated, the headstrong blonde abruptly stood up and smacked the Woodbury leader on the side of the head, hard enough for him to see stars before she walked out of the room. The Governor vaguely remembered seeing a copious amount of blood coming out from Andrea’s nose before passing out completely.


  * By a stroke of luck, Glenn found a boom box, a bunch of tapes with recorded music, and three full boxes of tequila while on a supply run, and suggested a celebration of love (the first and probably the last) for the new couple. They partied that evening, and by the fifth hour everyone in the room was drunk beyond recognition, all with flushed faces and incoherent laughing slurs, save for Hershel who carried Judith away, grumbling, “Just about done taking care of overgrown babies.” Hershel leaving the room then triggers one of the most epic examples of drunken karaoke Georgia has ever seen. Rick and Daryl’s inebriated rendition of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” is a thunderous success, until, moved by the gaiety of the situation and the alcohol in their systems, Daryl dropped his near empty tequila bottle to the floor, yelled “Fuck the police!”, and began heavily making out with Rick, both of them stripping each other in the middle of the room. Carol was immediately sobered up by the lewd scene before her and pushed the two men inside the nearest empty cell (which happened to be Michonne’s) to fuck like horny teenagers. Those who were left on the room though began drunk-crying incessantly – the nose-bleeding Greene sisters in angry tears and threatening to sue the older woman for her intervention, and Glenn was beside them, bawling for a different reason entirely. Michonne, still deadpan, simply walked out, making a mental note to burn the insides of her cell once everything is done. Unfortunately it was Merle and Carl who took it the hardest – the older Dixon, with his Southern machismo and bravado thrown out the window, was an intoxicated crying mess in the corner blubbering “I’m flying!” repeatedly, and the younger Grimes could not be coaxed out of his cell for days, also mumbling something about protecting his baby sister from the evils and craziness of the world. Officially, they are now part of the traumatized category of “Those Who Have Seen Entirely Too Much of Atlanta’s Strongest.”


  * In a rather screwed form of therapy and to lessen the tics (which were no longer there really, Rick was just bored), Rick ends up channeling some of his abrasive energies into heated discussions with Glenn (the poor Korean in between left without a choice and craving for a manly conversation), in which they debate who has the more amazing sex life. They generally do this loudly – loud enough to attract walkers – and with children around, until either Maggie or Daryl beats them both into unconsciousness. The practice is eventually stopped by Rick once Daryl discovers the wonders of passive aggression, as it turns out that picking Daryl up in a massive cuddle and cooing, “I only want the best for my schnookums,” is a much stronger deterrent than bodily harm.


  * After a fairly easy escape, siblings Tyreese and Sasha decided to trudge towards the prison by themselves to warn Rick’s group of another impending attack and to help them at least – and also because they were sick of the Governor’s crazy that it started to scare them a bit. At first, they kept a safe distance as they hid behind the outskirts of the forest where they are able to view the happenings behind the fences, while coming up with a plan for a “gentler” approach, to avoid a repeat of the sheriff’s tantrum a while back. It was that one fateful day that both of them regretted even coming – and that was when they saw the whole group, all in forlorn expressions, enacting a funeral. A funeral for a half-destroyed boom box. Complete with a makeshift cross and the old veterinarian presiding over. When the whole thing was finally over and the group went inside, all sad faces and sniffles, both of them slowly looked at each other, shook their heads, went back to Woodbury, and started to question themselves silently if there were any sane species at all left in the world. Whatever the hell that was, the incident was never spoken of ever again.



 

**THE END :D**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. If I could, I can make more Rickyl -- I actually have two ideas in my head already. If I can get as much comments, it'll probably drive me to do so.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and for bearing with me through this! :D


End file.
